


The Making of a Spy

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Angst, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Wooster explains to Violetta how he became a spy while still an undergraduate at Cambridge.  He's still carrying some of the scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Making of a Spy

“So, anyway,” said Violetta, “how did you get into this spying business in the first place? I mean, if you got assigned to Gil when you were twenty-two... well, that was a pretty important job. They must have had some way of knowing how good you were even though you were so young. How long had you been doing it?” She paused. “Of course, if that's not a rude question. I know you hate telling lies, and I don't want you to lie to me either, so feel free not to answer.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Oh, that's no great secret,” I replied. “I started when I was up at King's.”

“King's what?” she asked.

“King's College, Cambridge,” I elaborated. “Sorry. That was where I did my first degree.”

“In languages?”

“Well, classics, actually. I officially studied the modern language side of things at the Sorbonne, but in fact I'd been learning all of them on my own for some years previously, so, as I've already mentioned, I didn't have to exert myself there very hard. At King's I did, but it was useful experience. All British schoolboys are taught Latin and Greek, and I had always done well in them at school, but at King's I was taking it to another level. Have you ever studied the classics? Latin, in particular.”

“Only a little,” Violetta confessed. “I can just about make sense of a simple page of Virgil, but I didn't enjoy it, and my Greek is almost non-existent. I can read the alphabet, and beyond that I'm barely competent.”

“Did you find that even that turned out to be helpful in learning other languages?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she replied promptly.

“I thought so. Imagine, then, what three years of it at King's did for my own language skills.”

She grinned. “I don't have to imagine. I just have to listen to you. Any language you have to speak, you seem to be fluent in. And your accent! It's always excellent.”

“Oh, well, accent's a separate skill,” I replied. “I think it's more related to music. I can play things by ear, and I suspect that's similar to being able to pick up a good accent.”

“Yeah, I know you can. I've heard you. But what has this to do with becoming a spy?”

“Well,” I explained, “you see, the thing is, my father had a very good friend by the name of Willoughby, who was – as we all thought at the time – quite a big wheel in the Civil Service. And it so happened that this Mr Willoughby had a son my age who'd been at Harrow. I'd met him once or twice, but not formed much of an impression of him. But he was going up to Cambridge at the same time as I was, and my father and Mr Willoughby put their heads together and decided it would be a good idea if I were to... shall we say... keep an eye on him.”

Violetta laughed. “Don't tell me. Because you were a nice, sober, sensible young man and he was a bit of a rake? Really, you do seem to have ended up with some pretty lively companions in your time.”

I blushed slightly. “Mostly, but not entirely. I was perhaps not _quite_ such a sober and sensible young man as you seem to think; I had got into a little trouble at Winchester now and again. Although, as my father did very reasonably point out, none of it had been my trouble. When one extricates one's friends from scrapes, occasionally it rebounds on one's own head. Nonetheless, it is probably fair to say that I was a model of steadiness compared to young Willoughby.”

“Heh,” said Violetta. “So he was good preparation for dealing with Gil, then?”

“Well,” I replied thoughtfully, “he was and he wasn't. You see, I actually liked Master Gil. I could have a decent intelligent conversation with him, about pretty much any subject. I certainly couldn't say the same for Willoughby. I didn't actively dislike him, but I more or less had to limit my topics of conversation with him to cricket and the weather, or he'd just sit there and gape at me like a fish.”

“But he got into Cambridge,” Violetta objected. “He can't have been totally stupid.”

“Oh, he could,” I sighed. “I'm afraid money will get you anywhere in England. His family had a lot of money.”

“I always get the impression yours didn't,” she said, carefully.

“You'd be quite right. We didn't. That is to say, we weren't poor either, but we certainly didn't have money to throw around. I was a scholarship boy from the ground up.”

“Ah, so you actually got where you are because you've got brains? That's a lot more impressive than getting there because you've got money.”

“Not everyone had that attitude at school,” I said. “Well, at least at first. Once I'd blacked the eye of the most persistent bully, there was very little snobbery after that.”

She laughed. “I just bet there wasn't. Good for you, Wooster. Anyway, this Willoughby?”

“Yes,” I said. “This Willoughby. There were two young ladies, a Miss Applegate and her friend Miss Markham, and almost the first thing Willoughby did at Cambridge was to fall madly in love with Miss Applegate. Rather to my astonishment, she reciprocated, at least for a while, and for some reason that gave him the idea that Miss Markham and I might be well suited to each other. I suppose he thought it would be very convenient for the purpose of hiring punts and so on.”

“But you weren't interested in Miss Markham,” said Violetta. “I can tell from your voice.”

“No, I wasn't, and it was entirely mutual,” I replied. “She liked big prop-forward types, as I discovered from her brother, with whom I was very friendly. They were twins. I'd always wanted to learn to fence, so I'd taken it up as soon as I got to Cambridge, and Charles Markham was already an experienced fencer. He taught me a great deal. Charles didn't care for Willoughby at all. He knew why I associated with him, but he didn't approve. He said the man was an ass, and ought to be left to sink or swim for himself, since he was old enough now.”

“You must have been pretty close friends,” said Violetta. “I notice you use his first name.”

“A lot of people did, with Charles. He was that sort of person. But, yes, we were good friends. Not many people have ever called me Ardsley outside the family, but he always did. He had a very direct, no-nonsense approach.”

“Aren't you still in touch?” she asked, curiously.

“No,” I replied. “I'm afraid the reason for that is going to become clear rather shortly.”

“Oh! You fell out?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Charles Markham is dead.”

She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Oh! Oh, I am so sorry.”

I closed my eyes. “I still miss the old fellow. Especially when I fence. He'd get really worked up at me. Always called me a tomfool if I didn't guard properly.”

“So... what... what on earth happened?” asked Violetta, all concern.

“Well,” I said, heavily. “What happened was that Willoughby kept insisting on dragging me along on various outings with the Misses Applegate and Markham. He never said as much, but it was perfectly obvious what he was hoping would happen. I often felt like telling him to take a hike, but I was aware that he had got himself into some trouble over a young lady while he was at Harrow, and I felt that if anything else like that happened I would probably get blamed for not keeping a proper eye on him.”

Violetta looked at me narrowly. “Really, though, if he wanted to get involved with anyone, it was just his business and hers, wasn't it? Or his, if he happened to be inclined that way.”

“In an ideal world, yes,” I replied frankly. “I assure you, I had no great desire to have my nose in his business. To be honest, when I arrived in Paris, it was a considerable relief to be able to leave Gil to his own romantic devices without feeling that I would have to answer to anyone for it. But I was under some pressure regarding Willoughby.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Anyway, obviously nothing happened between myself and Miss Markham, whom in any case I found rather pompous and silly. However, Willoughby was... a big prop-forward type.”

“Ah,” said Violetta.

“Precisely. Miss Applegate became intensely annoyed with Miss Markham for flirting with Willoughby, resulting in a screaming argument on a punt in the middle of the Cam. Miss Applegate concluded by declaring that she no longer wished to associate with either Miss Markham or Willoughby, and underlined this fact by flinging her arms around the only other man present, who was, unfortunately, me.”

“Oh Lord,” said Violetta. “What did you do?”

“I extricated myself as politely as possible and jumped into the Cam,” I replied. “A rather drastic exit from any possible misunderstanding, but the only one that appeared to be available to me. Miss Applegate was rather displeased, so I think she possibly was harbouring some feelings towards me. I must admit that if the surrounding circumstances had been less fraught, I might have considered returning them, since she was an intelligent and generally sensible young lady. But, with matters standing as they did, that would merely have added fuel to an already brightly blazing fire.”

“I bet she would have been,” said Violetta wisely. “If she was starting to get more interested in you than in Willoughby, she'd have been a lot more annoyed about her friend flirting with him.”

I blinked. “Would you mind running that by me again?”

“Guilt,” she explained. “If she was getting interested in you, she'd have been feeling a bit guilty about it, and if Willoughby and her friend then started flirting, she'd have got extra angry to push down the guilt.”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, I haven't been in love very often, so I wasn't aware of that. The following day, Willoughby informed me that he was now in love with Miss Markham, and poor Miss Applegate was not speaking to any of us. And Charles, I have to say, was very far from pleased.” I shook my head sadly. “I wish with all my heart he hadn't reacted the way he did.”

“What did he do?” asked Violetta gently.

I realised I was running my hand through my hair. I try to avoid doing that, but under stress it appears to be semi-automatic behaviour. “The old clot challenged Willoughby to a duel,” I said.

“He whaaaaa...?! I thought those were illegal in England!”

“They are, and have been for a long time,” I assured her. “And if I'd had the slightest idea what was happening at the time, I would have called the police on the pair of them without hesitation. But, naturally, neither of them was going to ask me to act as second, given the fact that I was friends with one and at least some kind of friends with the other. Besides, Willoughby knew very well that if I found out I'd have his father on him, so I was kept very well out of it. But I did find out.”

“How?” asked Violetta.

“Well, Charles was the challenger, so Willoughby obviously got the choice of weapons. And he said pistols. Charles didn't like guns; he had a sort of contempt for them. He said if you could use a sword properly, you shouldn't need a gun, and in any case it was a coward's weapon. He was very old-fashioned in some ways. But Willoughby had said pistols, and so he had to go and borrow one. If he'd borrowed one from anyone he knew well, they would have been suspicious, so he went to Crawford. Crawford was a rather eccentric chap from Peterhouse who spoke very good German and went duck hunting. What Charles didn't know was that I was quite friendly with Crawford because of the German. And so when Crawford happened to mention that Charles had borrowed a pistol, I was frantic.”

“So what did you do?” asked Violetta.

I sighed. “It was late when I bumped into Crawford and he mentioned the pistol. I couldn't really go round to Charles' rooms and wake him up, just in case I was wrong. So I decided to get up early the next morning and tail one of them. If Charles had got himself into a duel, it had to be with Willoughby; it couldn't possibly be anyone else. After a little thought, I decided that Willoughby would be the easier one to tail. Charles was sharper and warier.”

“You did go armed yourself, I suppose?” she asked.

“What good would that have done? I was out to stop a fight, not make it worse. Well, I sat up all night in the quad, out of sight of the door to his staircase. There's a lot of very beautiful architecture in Cambridge, and much of it is ideal for hiding behind. Sure enough, out he came in the small hours of the morning, carrying a pistol. It was easy enough to hide in the shadows as I followed him, since it was still mostly dark. He met his second, a chap I didn't know, outside the main gate at Trinity, and they set off on foot into the countryside.”

“You know,” she said, “doing that, I'd have been armed.”

“I'm sure you would,” I replied. “But your concept of 'armed' is a lot wider than the one I had available at the time. You have weapons that can just stun. I'd have brought those, if I'd had any access to them.”

She nodded. “OK, that's a fair point,” she conceded. “Still, didn't you worry about your own safety at all?”

“I did very little else,” I confessed. “Arguing with two angry men with pistols was well outside my experience, at the time. But I had to try. I couldn't just let them go ahead.”

“Yeah, that's you in a nutshell,” she said. “So then what happened?”

“Willoughby and his second got to the place they'd arranged first,” I replied. “It was absolutely desolate, too. I imagine you don't know Cambridge? It's in the middle of the Fens, which is the flattest part of England. Have you seen Holland? It's very similar. And it was very cold, as it often is just before dawn, and the wind was whistling in off the North Sea, and there wasn't a soul about except for the three of us, and every now and then some bird made the most mournful noise you could imagine. I can still picture it vividly. I can especially recall the cold. I had on a warm coat, but the wind was still blowing straight through it and freezing me to the marrow. I thought I'd never be warm again.”

Violetta shuddered sympathetically. “Urgh. You know, if this is too painful to talk about, please stop. I don't want to force anything out of you.”

“No... I think it's helpful to talk about it,” I assured her. “Anyway, so I hid in a ditch, which was damp but at least sheltered. And, of course, soon enough, along came Charles and his second, who was someone else I didn't know. I'm not well up on the etiquette of duels, but I was pretty sure there would be some preamble. They wouldn't just square up to each other as soon as Charles arrived on the scene.”

“That figures,” said Violetta.

“And I was right,” I said. “Charles walked up to Willoughby, and they shook hands very formally, and the seconds did the same. It was painful to watch, knowing what they had in mind. I must admit, I was scared silly, but while they were all talking I suddenly thought 'come on, Wooster, it's now or never,' and I jumped out of the ditch and shouted something. I don't even remember what I shouted, since I was so wound up. Probably just 'stop!' or something like that.”

“I should not be putting you through this,” said Violetta. “You're running your hand through your hair again.”

“Oh. I am. Thank you for telling me,” I said, removing it. “Yes, well, I'm not going to stop talking about it at this point. The next thing that happened was that Willoughby drew his gun on me. I wasn't surprised; I had feared he might. Charles wouldn't, of course, but Willoughby... well, he obviously knew I was there to keep an eye on him, and you can go to prison for a long time for duelling. The stakes were a lot higher than any regard he might have had for me.”

“But you can hang for murder,” said Violetta, her eyes very wide. “Would he really have killed you to keep you quiet?”

“To this day I don't know,” I replied. “Of course, if I'd been scared before, I was absolutely terrified by this point, because I couldn't rule out the thought that he might. But I managed to get out the words, 'I'm not armed.' He looked at me as if I'd gone crazy.”

“But did he put the pistol down?” asked Violetta.

“No,” I said. “So I did the only thing I could. I rushed him.”

“Ardsley Wooster,” said Violetta, “you are a...” She paused, and grinned. “Hey. Fill in the blank. I don't know what you are, but you're brave.”

“Yes, well, everyone said that afterwards,” I replied, rather embarrassed. “But I didn't feel in the least brave at the time. It just seemed like the only possible chance I had to stop him from killing either me or anyone else. And he fired, but I don't think he had time to aim properly, so he missed. Well, as good as missed. He grazed my arm. Messed up a good coat and shirt, but no worse than that. And then...” I pulled my hand firmly back from its journey towards my head. “And then Charles fired.”

“I should hope so!” said Violetta warmly. “I'd have done the same thing, in his place.”

“Yes. He thought Willoughby was going to kill me, so he shot him. Willoughby went down like a stone.”

“Dead?” asked Violetta.

I shook my head. “No. But we both thought so at the time. And that, I'm afraid, was why Charles shot himself.”

“Oh,” said Violetta. “That's... awful.”

“Yes,” I replied, not looking at her. “And, a few years later, when I myself had to kill a man to prevent him from killing both me and someone else, I understood exactly how Charles had felt. He'd meant to stop him. He had never meant to do it permanently. If the other person hadn't been there, I might have done the same as Charles. It is a terrible feeling to take someone else's life.”

She was not looking at me either. “You... get used to it. Sort of. You have to.”

“Sort of,” I echoed.

“Yeah. Uh... don't take this the wrong way...” She put her hand gently on mine. “Just wanted to say I'm glad you didn't do what Charles did.”

“Thank you.” I understood exactly how she meant it; nonetheless, I was glad Zeetha was not present.

“Anyway, I suppose you called the police after that?”

“Naturally,” I said. “That is to say, I sent one of the seconds running for them, and the other for a doctor. The idiot Willoughby wasn't much worse hurt than I was, as it turned out; Charles had got him in the shoulder, and he'd gone down from a combination of shock, pain, and a reasonable desire not to get hit a second time. As for poor Charles, there was nothing that could be done for him. He'd shot himself through the temple. At least I have the consolation that he probably didn't feel a thing.”

“Did Willoughby get arrested for duelling?” asked Violetta.

“No, because they hadn't actually duelled,” I replied. “I'd stopped them. He did get arrested for threatening and then assaulting me, but I had to insist on not pressing charges, for rather obvious reasons. That, I fear, stuck badly in my throat for a long time. I held him responsible for Charles' death, as you can no doubt imagine.”

Violetta thought about this. “And how did Willoughby senior react?”

“Ah,” I said. “Well, that is rather the point of the entire story. Shortly after these events took place, Willoughby senior removed his son from Cambridge, to my considerable relief. I believe he obliged him to take some fairly menial office job in some firm in the City where he had an interest. He then came to visit me; it turned out that he had already heard the whole story from both his son and his son's second, whom he'd managed to find and question. And that was when I found out that he was not exactly in the Civil Service as such after all.”

“So he recruited you?” said Violetta, with a smile.

“Indeed. He... was most impressed with me, even though I assured him that I was not in the least impressed with myself. I had gone to try to prevent any bloodshed, and now poor Charles was dead.”

“But by his own hand,” Violetta pointed out. “You couldn't possibly have stopped that.”

“That was what Mr Willoughby said,” I replied. “He also kept telling me I was extremely brave. I said I was no such thing. I'd been increasingly scared throughout the whole business.”

“Yeah, and that's why you're brave, you idiot,” she said. “You ought to listen to yourself. You kept on saying, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, but you didn't let it stop you doing anything, now did you? You still faced up to Willoughby, knowing he might very well draw his pistol on you, and when he did, what did you do? You rushed him.”

“Yes, but it was _logical_ to rush him,” I protested. “As soon as I realised he wasn't going to put the pistol down, I knew he'd end up firing it at me. So the only chance I had was to go for him first.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you wonder why Mr Willoughby recruited you?”

“Well. Yes. Even now, a lot of the time. I mean, I know I'm good at getting hold of information, and there are some other things I know I'm good at. But I am never going to be one of those cool, fearless types. I'd probably have to get myself turned into a Jäger for that.”

“Now there's a mental image,” she said, laughing.

“Oh, I'm not planning to do it,” I assured her. “I greatly admire the Jägers, but if I were to become one I can't imagine it going down well with the rest of the family. I think Aunt Emmeline would probably require the sal volatile.”

“Nah, you'd never make a Jäger,” she said. “Seriously, who ever heard of a Jäger who wore detachable collars? But, honestly, there's nothing wrong with you that an extra shot of self-confidence wouldn't cure. And I can give you all the Smoke Knight training I'm allowed to give, but I can't give you that. You're going to have to find it yourself.” She put her head on one side again. “I would if I could. But I can't, and I know it's not easy.”

“You're a good friend, Violetta,” I said.

“I hope to be,” she replied. “But I reckon we do need to step up your training a bit. I want to get you to the next level fast.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why, particularly? Is there some additional imminent danger I haven't yet heard about?”

“Oh, no,” she replied. “It's just that, the next time I hear you doing yourself down, I'm seriously going to want to punch you.” She paused, and grinned. “And it wouldn't be fair if you couldn't at least try to punch back!”


End file.
